They Wanted All The Juice
by rosaleehdecoded
Summary: Michael, Vanessa and their crew are teenagers living in Harlem, New York and trying to get out. They want power. They want respect. They wanted all the juice. MJ fanfic loosely based on the movie Juice.


He's talking on a pay phone. At least he appears to be. He's with four other people, three boys and a girl. They appear to be school-age, they should be in a classroom somewhere, taking notes and learning. But they aren't, which is the grim reality. They're far from home, on the corner of Gunhill and Decatur in the Bronx.

In the middle of the phone call, a man walks up to the kid and taps his shoulder. The long-haired teenager smiles and ends his call, hanging up the phone and collecting his change. Properly greeting the man, he slaps him five and leans in for a hug. They shoot the breeze for a second, conversing about the upcoming Laker game before the man goes on his way, heading back they way he came. To the outside, this is a normal exchange, but that's only the surface. This is what he'll be doing all day, till sundown. To the five teenagers, this is life. The only way they'll ever get anywhere being young and black from 1980's Harlem. At this point in life, the plans to get a grant and go off to college won't pan or even out. They need something more than the pissy stairwells and glass laced sidewalks. They want the Manhattan Brownstones and the 6-series big body Benzes. They want what all the poor kids spend their lives dreaming of. For them, there's only one way out, but is it worth risking their futures for? Risking their lives, even? Probably not. But we also know life itself is a risk. No day but today. Before you tip up your nose and call them menaces, say La Vie and hear their stories. Learn who they are. See, all they want is a future, they want power.

They wanted all the juice….

June 17, 1983

Third Person POV

"Ay Bones! Ay Bones!" A dude calls up to a window. He's tall and skinny, weary baggy jeans, a blue and a yellow striped polo with a fresh pair of all-white Nikes on his feet. His hair is styled in the popular high top fade. He looked fresher than a newborn without really even trying. His confidence exuded through the thick New York City air and captured everything in its path. His name is Shawn, but to his friends he's Jazzy. He's not gorgeous but his ambiguous nature left everybody- girls and guys wanting to know more.

"Bones!" he shouts once more. "Where is the kid?"

"Looking for me, Jaz?" a high toned soft voice says from behind. Like Jaz, he's tall and slender, but that's about the only exterior similarity. Jaz was cool but standing next to this guy is like standing James Dean next to Alfred Hitchcock. This kid is all that and then some. His Jheri-curled hair falls to the midpoint of his neck, framing his structured face perfectly. His strikingly bright smile and mesmerizing brown eyes are in a fierce competition and at the moment, his wide smile is winning, beaming from the look on Jazzy's face. He is appropriately nicknamed Bones for his tiny figure. Standing at 5'11", he's nearly six feet of chocolaty goodness and the ladies certainly approve.

"Ay Mike, quit playing. Where were you?" Jaz questions.

"Minding my business. You should really try it, bro. It'll get you far in life." Michael replied slyly.

"Oh really?" Jaz folded his long arms and eyed his friend, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Yes really. I got a slick mouth; you might wanna roll with me" Michael responded, playfully smacking his best friends shoulder.

"Get outta here, man. Tryna be cool like me."

"This is coming from the kid who can't even get with Brenda Winstead."

"Bones, it's called "hard to get". She'll be running to me soon enough."

"Brenda? Hard-To-Get?. Jaz, Brenda is like the gotdamn subway: Anyone can ride for a few dollars. You just have no skill."

"Keep playing yourself, Bones. I'll smack all that nasty ass grease out your head. Since you wanna bring up girls, who YOU with?"

"Actually, I'm talking to Brooke Anderson" He admitted, adopting a shit-eating grin.

"Word?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, ok . Much respect. Get back to me when that's true." Jaz said, walking away. Michael quickly fell into step, his stride matching Jazzy's.

"And what makes you so sure I'm lying?"

"Mike, I've known you for as long as I can remember. If anyone can catch you in a lie, it's me."

"Whatever man. Where are we going anyway?"

"The court."

The court was the unofficial meeting grounds for the Sugar Hill projects high schoolers. A headquarters of sorts. Freshman year was like a rite of passage for Sugar Hill residents. It was the club before the club. It sorta prepared you for life. Michael and Jazzy had seen and done so many things in the past two years on that asphalt. It was where Michael proved to the Varsity players he could ball by beating the skins of their asses in street ball. Where Jazzy had his first rap battle. The court was life to the teenagers within it.

They reached the gated court, scoping it out, looking for the second half of their crew. It was a hot June day and all the athletes were out, balling and the fly girls were in abundance, gossiping and clocking the dudes they had crushes on. The spotted their man Tupac almost right away. Tall and built , Pac was the militant one. He always wanted an answer and when he didn't get one it frustrated the ever loving fuck out of him. He had a far more deep way of thinking than most of his friend. He stormed down the court, visibly excited, smiling wide.

"Y'all are late!" he exclaimed, reaching his friends, seeping with pride.

"Late for what?" Jaz questioned.

"I just handed Shakkan his ASS in ball, man! He was steady rapping and I whupped him! Right in front of ole girl, too!"

"Ole girl? Who's that? Jasmine?" Michael asked, referring to his homeboy's on and off girlfriend. Shakkan was the biggest and most confident of the group and as a result he had the most success with girls- platonically, romantically and sexually. Unfortunately, Shakkan was one of those guys that would love you then leave you alone. Jasmine was a mere exception, having been the main chick in his life for the past year.

"See for yourself" Pac said, pointing over to Shakkan. He was sitting in the bleachers with this girl. They were sitting there smiling and chit-chatting. You could see the confusion filling Michael's face.

"Wait, is he talking to Vanessa Carter?"


End file.
